


the mayo rimming fic

by sweggscellent



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ??? i guess TECHNICALLY its food kink, Food Kink, I'm so sorry, M/M, Mayonnaise, Other, Rimming, im sorry im so. im sor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweggscellent/pseuds/sweggscellent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Uh,” Marco starts eloquently. “Y’know Jean, I’ve tried it and I’m… god. I’m just not really a fan of ass flavor, you know? But I’ll. Suck your… dick? For you?” he offers.</p><p>Jean’s face falls for a split second before lighting up again. “You know what’s always good?”</p><p>Marco lifts an eyebrow. “What, Jean?”</p><p>There’s a headache forming between his eyes.</p><p>“Sandwich shop mayo."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the mayo rimming fic

**Author's Note:**

> it's exactly what it sounds like  
> the potato thing is extracted from real life events

It happens on a Saturday evening.

Marco and Jean are sitting together with How I Met Your Mother playing on Netflix, and Marco’s trying really hard to focus, but Jean is grousing about his job at Subway and every time Marco turns the TV’s volume up, Jean gets louder with it.

“—And I swear to god Marco, Eren has no idea what the fuck he’s doing half the time, he always goes for pastrami before anything else, even if the customer doesn’t ask for meat, I don’t know what his deal is with pastrami—“

And Marco is usually pretty patient with Jean, especially where Subway is concerned (because he used to work at Jimmy John’s, he’s been there and done that), but it’s Saturday and finals are coming up and he really, really just wants to watch How I Met Your Mother.

“Jean,” Marco tries to interject, but Jean just keeps going.

“—Frankly I don’t even know what the fuck pastrami is. Is it like bologna where it’s just a bunch of shit thrown together? Like hot dogs. You know that’s what hot dogs are, right? Just the leftover pieces of meat. Hot dogs and bologna are literally the same thing in different forms. Have you ever thought about that? Bologna is flat hot dogs. And what’s a hot dog? Pieces of ass. And pig’s ear and knee and probably wiener. Fuck if know, really. God, that’s fucked up. Wieners made of wiener—“

“Jean!” Marco shouts, pressing A on the Xbox controller to pause HIMYM. He turns to Jean with frantic, pleading eyes, and Jean’s mouth clicks shut. “Please! I just want to watch How I Met Your Mother. Just. You’ve been going on about nothing for half an hour. It’s Saturday. Try to relax.”

“But I’m so stressed, Marco! Can we fuck or something?”

Marco’s a little thrown by that. Jean never really asks so directly, or so out of the blue, but—

“Or, I know! You could eat me out! We’ve never tried that before!”

Dammit. It’s like he’s drunk.

“Uh,” Marco starts eloquently. “Y’know Jean, I’ve tried it and I’m… god. I’m just not really a fan of ass flavor, you know? But I’ll. Suck your… dick? For you?” he offers.

Jean’s face falls for a split second before lighting up again. “You know what’s always good?”

Marco lifts an eyebrow. “What, Jean?”

There’s a headache forming between his eyes.

“Sandwich shop mayo. I will slather myself in mayonnaise and we can try rimming that way.”

Marco’s mind does a full stop and his jaw slackens, dropping open.

Sandwich shop mayo is good. But that’s. Not the point here.

“What?”

Jean looks earnest as ever, his face bright and open, eyes shining. God, he looks like a fucking kid on Christmas morning and not like he just asked Marco to slap some mayonnaise between his cheeks and call it a day.

“Are you… dude. Are you being serious right now?”

“Yeah, bro!” Jean says, leaning more into Marco’s personal space. “I wanna get eaten out, you like sandwich shop mayo, we’ve both worked at sandwich places… I don’t know, it makes sense! Like peanut butter and jelly!”

“Jean, you’re allergic to peanuts.”

“That’s not the point!”

Marco sighs, turning a bit away from his boyfriend and pinching the bridge of his nose. He has a point, kind of. A weird one, very out of left field, but it’s a point nonetheless. And they do keep the fridge pretty heavily stocked with sandwich shop mayonnaise, because it is really fucking good.

There’s not really anything to lose here, really. It’s a bizarre request, but Marco’s not really one to say no.

He turns back to Jean.

“Okay.”

“Really?” Jean practically yells, his eyes lighting up even more. “Are you sure? Because if this is too weird for you, we really don’t have to…”

Marco manages a small smile. “Nah, it’s cool. Just. Get set up? I’ll go grab the uh, the jar.”

Jean nods eagerly, shifting as Marco stands and pads to the kitchen.

There’s some awkward shuffling and grunting from Jean’s place in the living room as Marco cracks the refrigerator open, glancing in and surveying its contents. He really doesn’t know how they get by this way. There’s two six packs of beer, a probably-expired gallon of milk, a half-finished bottle of vodka (why isn’t that in the freezer?), a potato in the butter compartment (the fuck?), and, as expected, a full four jars of sandwich shop mayonnaise scattered about the shelves. Shaking his head, Marco grabs one and twists the thing open, peeling the protective plastic from the top and tossing it on his way out.

He doesn’t grab a spoon or a butter knife because he figures, hey, they’re gonna get dirty anyway, right?

He trots back into the living room to find Jean on his stomach on the couch, face down, ass up, already naked and stroking his hardening cock. That’s a pretty appealing sight (enough to almost make Marco drop the jar he’s holding, anyway) and Marco wastes no time in shuffling over and setting the mayonnaise gingerly on the coffee table.

He kneels behind Jean and leans forward, dropping an open-mouthed kiss against his boyfriend’s spine, and Jean sighs, breathlessly asking, “Got the mayonnaise?”

Marco tries hard not to laugh at that and instead pitches his voice a little lower, chuckling

against Jean’s skin as he slides a hand down his thigh. “Yeah,” he breathes, “I got the mayonnaise.”

Jeans whines a little, tugging a little harder at his dick, and Marco hopes to whatever god is out there that Jean is getting so worked up at the prospect of getting rimmed rather than the fact that Marco’s doing it with mayonnaise.

Marco sighs internally, leaning in a little further to drape himself over Jean’s back and decides he has to do something to make this sexy for himself, too. He likes mayonnaise, but not quite this much.

“How long have you wanted me to eat you out, hm?” he asks, purring the question out, and he feels kind of ridiculous because holy shit, he’s literally going to slather mayonnaise on his boyfriend’s ass.

Jean moans at the inquiry, though, turning his face so his cheek is pressed into the couch cushion. “A really long time,” he pants, his hand working slow and lazy on his cock.

“Stop touching yourself,” Marco commands, reaching back to squeeze Jean’s ass, and Jean moans, dropping his hand and pushing back. Something twitches in Marco’s gut, finally, and he drags his mouth languidly down Jean’s spine.

Marco reaches over, trying not to think too much about what he’s about to do, and dips his fingers in the cold emulsion sitting on the table. He bites at Jean’s left ass cheek and drags his wet fingers down the cleft of his boyfriend’s ass, smirking around his mouthful when Jean jolts, then sighs. Marco’s heard about what can happen if you get edible things in certain, ah… orifices, so he’s careful not to prod his fingers inside.

“Tell me what you want,” Marco whispers, and Jean whines again. When he doesn’t answer, Marco scoops up more mayonnaise and slides his fingers down Jean’s crack again and down dangerously close to his balls.

“Your mouth,” Jean gasps, and Marco retracts his hand.

“Good boy,” Marco says under his breath before diving in, and it’s not as bad as he was expecting.

It’s weird, definitely, but the way Jean is falling apart underneath Marco’s tongue is sending shivers down his spine and Marco prods in further, his hands spreading Jean further open.

“Oh, fuck, Marco,” Jean gasps, hands scrabbling to find anything to hold onto.

Marco bobs his head, tongue-fucking Jean quicker, cleaning the tart-sweet flavor of mayonnaise from him because really, it may not be that bad, but Marco will take the taste of ass over doing this again any day.

Jean’s losing his cool, one hand creeping back to wrap around his leaking cock again against Marco’s commands, and Marco growls a bit, gripping Jean’s sharp hips tightly and jerking him up so only his upper body is resting against the couch.

He makes lewd sounds, slurping obscenely as he fucks Jean into oblivion, erasing any thoughts of Eren or pastrami or whatever-the-fuck-else from his mind.

The only thing that warns Marco of his boyfriend’s oncoming orgasm is the way Jean begs quickly for him to _oh fuck don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop_ and the way he clenches around Marco’s tongue. He comes hard and dirty, streaking Marco’s shirt, and Marco doesn’t stop even after Jean is spent and whimpering.

“Marco,” Jean says breathlessly, twitching and grasping back weakly at Marco’s shirt. “M-Marco, ah, babe, fuck,” he stutters.

Marco finally stops, lowering Jean back to the couch and manhandling him until he’s on his back, breathless and disheveled and flushing like a teenager.

Marco lays against Jean’s chest, chin against his sternum as he blinks up at him and smiles. “Good?”

Jean looks entirely fucked-out, one arm flopped against his forehead, and smiles back at Marco. “Hell yeah it was good,” he says, reaching forward best he can to kiss Marco.

Marco obliges, kissing Jean deep and slow, and he’s about to say something about cleaning up after they pull apart but Jean opens his mouth before Marco can.

“You taste like fucking mayonnaise.”

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha oh god
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://sweggscellent.tumblr.com)


End file.
